This is what my father told me time and time again, especially when I wanted to try something I had never done before.

You see, my father was not a daring man. Well, that wasn’t the problem; the problem was he couldn’t bear to see me succeed. Somehow my success would amplify his failure in life, and his purpose in life was to hold me back.

I was fifteen at the time and I wanted to try out for the cheerleading team. He told me I was too heavy, he told me I was clumsy, he told me I wasn’t bright enough to learn the various steps, the complicated cheers. And worst of all, he told me the other girls wouldn’t accept me because I wasn’t pretty enough.

What a father.

So, I tried out, anyway. And to his utter dismay, I made it. Well, kind of. I was an alternative. But, hey, when you come from a family like mine – a totally unsupportive, dysfunctional group – well, this was a grand success.

So, you might ask, how did I make it? I’ll tell you.

I’ve always been the type of person who isn’t afraid of failure. And it doesn’t hurt that I have kind of a sixth sense that tells me exactly where to go and how to do it. I’ve always been able to read minds. And as for new ideas, I swear they’re floating in the air.

I believe I am psychic. I certainly have had psychic experiences since I was a small child. And I have survived because of this inner voice I hear inside my head that leads me to the right place at the right time. Some may call it luck. I call it intuition.

And I’m married now; I can honestly say, happily. And when my kids try to pull the wool over my eyes, they know by now it’s impossible because I know what they’re thinking. And, incidentally, my oldest, Sara, turned out exactly like me. As a result, we often communicate silently. She has even more psychic ability than me.